One Last Time
by phantomofthehummus
Summary: Michandrea...sort of! My take on the finale of Season Three of TWD. Andrea confides in Michonne to do her one last favor... [Image credit: afinefringefrenzy on deviantART.]


"The Governor kept prisoners back here," Michonne muttered one step behind Rick as they paced through the damp, dimly-lit corridor. They came to face a set of rusted double-doors, blood pooled from beneath them.

Rick leaned on one knee and examined, "It's fresh," he whispered, "Someone's still in there." He eyed Daryl and Michonne, who readied their weapons in response. Rick stood slowly, aiming his gun with his right hand and placed his left on the door. He looked back at his two partners, licking his lips nervously.

"Come on, open the damned thing, you're makin' me antsy." Daryl said dryly.

Rick threw the door open, grabbing his gun with both hands. The three dove into the room. They instantly noticed the body of a walker crumpled on the floor beneath a chair. On the arms of the chair rested two broken straps caked with dried blood the color of rust. A gurgled sound came from behind, and Michonne whipped around to see Andrea curled against the wall beside the door. She rushed over, kneeling to her side and brushing her hair out of her face.

"Andrea…" Rick spoke, on the verge of relief. He walked over to the women, placing his gun in the holster on his belt. Daryl frowned, aware that something seemed wrong. He watched solemnly from a few feet away, his bow-gun at rest.

"I was so close," she whimpered. She smiled up at Michonne, who was caressing her head. Then, she turned her face to the right, revealing a bleeding wound on her neck. Michonne gasped, pulling Andrea closer to her chest.

"Fuck," she said under her breath, her voice wavering slightly.

Rick came to face Andrea, and bent down to look her in the eye. Her lips quivered as she forced another smile, tears now beginning to roll down her dirt-streaked cheeks, leaving clean lines that cut through the filth.

"I didn't want anyone to die." Andrea said in a small tear-choked voice, barely audible. She looked Rick deep into his eyes. He smiled and nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing slightly. Michonne's head was down as she sobbed quietly, her right arm curled around Andrea's shoulders while she stroked her open palm with her left hand.

"You tried your best," Daryl said from across the room. He was staring at the stone floor, avoiding their eyes. Rick stood, running a hand through his greasy hair. Andrea pulled out the gun she had snatched off of Milton after he had turned, and cradled it in her free hand. Michonne's sobs deepened, and she squeezed Andrea's hand tight.

"Leave us." Andrea said to Rick. She turned to Daryl and nodded for him to go as well. They walked slowly out of the room, closing the doors behind them.

"You… you're gonna be all right, Andrea. I can fix this. I helped you once, I can help you now." Michonne mumbled through her tears, rocking Andrea in her arms like she were a child. Andrea reached out and placed her hand on Michonne's thigh, stopping her movements. She held her chin and looked her in the eyes.

"There's no fixing this one. Not this time." She said, still holding Michonne's face, wet from her crying.

"I'm so sorry I left you here, Andrea. I wanted you to trust me." She said, her voice shaky.

"I do trust you, Michonne. I trust you and I need you to do this one last thing for me." Andrea placed the pistol into Michonne's hand. Her fingers wrapped around the gun, and she bit her lip.

"Please." Andrea said, pain seeping into her words.

Michonne nodded quietly, pulling Andrea into her once more, then releasing her and placing the gun beneath her chin. Andrea closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath. Michonne placed a kiss on Andrea's sweating forehead, leaned back and closed her eyes, then pulled the trigger. Andrea's body shook once, then became still, falling limply against the wall. The gun dropped from Michonne's hand, its fall echoing through the dark room. She stood, using the back of one hand to wipe the tears and snot from her face. Then, she screamed. Her angry yells reverberated off the oozing walls of the make-shift cell, sounding more enraged as they echoed around her.

The doors swung open, Daryl and Rick, red-eyed, looked to Michonne. She stood, sword readied in her hands.

"Time to kill that motherfucker."


End file.
